Aftermath of the Feast
by Girl-of-Action
Summary: Carpenter and Walrus talk of a many things after the latter's delicious, scrumptious, murderous feast. One Shot most likely. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


"Hear me out Wallrus! You've ruined us both!" Carpenter cries out dramatically, pacing in the remains of their beloved theater, destroyed thanks to Wallrus's display and that abominable train. Chairs was strewn haphazardly across the room, stage collapsed and only one corner held up... Clumps of fish blood floating about, slowly dispersing over time. Wearing gray overalls with no shirt and pants cut jaggedly at the knees, Carpenter matched his surroundings nicely with his own look and countenance of disray.

"We are Kings now..." Wallrus rebuffs in his slow, dim witted manner, tongue working leisurely to remove the remains of his seafood 'dinner' from between his teeth.

"Oh yeah? Kings of what, you bumbling creature? These ruins? Those cadaverous, rotten corpses spectacle you've so unwittingly created? Unlike her highness we can't just wave a tentacle with a maniacal laugh and bring them back, you know, neither can we bribe, cheat, or steal, our best tools mind you, if there is nothing and or no one to use them on!" Carpenter rants and scolds in his usual fashion, waving his hammer at his frustratingly unconcerned partner. Wooden beams creak as Carpenter makes an irritated hop, like a pouting child. "How do plan to procure our remaining performers, writers and singers once they catch wind of your diabolical scheme and its finish? I say, already our best writer has gotten into his mind a notionality of him in the kitchen being made into sushi delight, by us truly! He's swam away at speeds even you must envy, no doubt to hid in one of his many bottles of lackadaisical self delusion!"

Wallrus rolls onto his back, blubber jiggling and wiggling at the movement while staring unseeingly at the seemingly endless layers of water above. "Your worry is of little consequence my lofty, fiery headed friend, for see we labor to procure a hearty meal, and that is the bottom end."

"Bottom line, Wallrus," Carpenter corrects with an audible sigh, sitting down on a star fallen from their make-shift, play sky.

"Either or, we have assembled, the feast of the ages. After our many years of congregating teams of Wonderlandish oddities... to beget what but legions of little people-pleasing crowds' pocket change, in promise of entertaining shows, it is fair, no tis our right, to have a little amusement and light-felt dalliance of our own?" Wallrus moves one fin to rub his comfortably full stomach.

"Quite right, Wallrus, quite right," The Red-headed man assures absently. "But tis only a fleeting moment, all good things must come to an end, as you've shown this once auspicious, now disheartened, quite in a literal sense of the word, crew." He replies while motioning to the empty oyster shells belonging but a few hours ago to their 'stars'.

"It will last us a life time." The Wallrus insists, wiggling his nose in a concentration of thought. "Our feast, it will. When Wonderland is at an end tis prudent, I believe, to spend our last days having a most satisfactory happy unbirthday."

"Oh, I don't know," says Carpenter, pensive as he sets his chin on his hand and his elbow on his bony knee, very aware of how hot and exhausting the sea around them had become, if that made any sense. "The girl may just pull through for us, or push if you'd prefer, with that charming help philosophy..." He says in a dreamy tone of voice.

"Demented, more like," Wallrus rebuffs in his gruff, skeptic tone. "Nothing but a demented, daft urge, that of what she has is."

"She's triumphed once before," Carpenter persists.

"But this time she let the taint in, twas a sin." Wallrus counters.

Carpenter returns, bounding up in excitement, pacing again with a hop in his step and clapping lightly while Wallrus watches him with half-lidded, lazy eyes. "Ah, that as it may be my good fellow, there is redemption, and Caterpillar has the key!"

"Then we'll just have to see."

"Indeed we shall, and with front row seats! Come Wallrus, its time to be off!"

"But what about our feast?" Is the complaint.

"We can always come back for a treat." Is the cheery reply. Wallrus then swims up next to Carpenter, albeit reluctantly, while Carpenter hops on the saddle with all the joy of a child about to watch his favorite show, or a stalker about to see his favorite girl. Take your pick.


End file.
